


Mercury

by FoxFireside



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hotel Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxFireside/pseuds/FoxFireside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heat wave hits Melbourne. Naturally, Miss Fisher has some ideas about how to cool down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Yes, this will become an M-rated fic because there's just so much potential fun to be had!
> 
> For those of your reading from other parts of the world, the idea for this fic came because the northern two thirds of Australia is currently experiencing a heat wave. It's currently 35 degrees Celsius (95 degrees Fahrenheit) and 91% humidity in my town – and it is 47 degrees Celsius (117 degrees Fahrenheit) in my home town in the outback! According to the Heat Index, the "feels like" temperature at my house during the day is 58 degrees Celsius/136 degrees Fahrenheit. Ahh, Australia – the country where everything, from wildlife to weather, tries to kill you :)

He's taken to sleeping naked.

After the second day of 33-plus degrees heat, Jack had given up on pyjamas and had taken to using a wet towel as a pillow – anything to try and snatch some sleep from the muggy nights. But the temperatures kept rising, Melbourne kept sweltering, and Jack continued to feel frazzled by the unrelenting heat.

Perhaps temporary heat-induced madness was the reason why he had found himself agreeing to accompany Miss Fisher to Queenscliff for the weekend.

They'd driven down in her car, the roof up to avoid sunstroke on the open road. Arriving late Friday night, they'd been shown to their rooms (separate, but with a connecting door) at the hotel. With the glass door to the first floor veranda open and a seabreeze stirring the air, Jack had quickly fallen asleep.

Which was how he came to be waking up in a luxuriously appointed room of the Queenscliff Hotel, the sheets wrapped low around his hips as he contemplated what fresh surprises Miss Fisher was likely to spring upon him today. Not that he regretted agreeing to the excursion – last night's blissfully cool sleep had made the trip worthwhile alone. No, it was not with regret that he stared at the ceiling, but rather with a well-deserved sense of suspicion. A weekend away at the seaside with the woman who consistently surprised him with her schemes and ideas - what  _had_  he got himself into?

Twenty minutes later, Jack was washed, dressed and sitting downstairs in the dining room reading the  _Queenscliff Herald_  when Phryne dropped gracefully into the chair beside him and snagged his last slice of jam on toast.

"With us at last?" Jack teased, eyes still on the local weather report. From the corner of his eye, he watched Phryne make a face at him, her mouth occupied with a cup of Turkish coffee. Truth be told (although he'd never admit it to a living soul), there was a sense of anticipation building inside him as they sat close together, the bustle of the breakfast crowd around them. Phryne was not known for doing what society expected, but even she could not fail to realise the signals she was sending with this little jaunt. Two days in a seaside hotel…just the two of them…with swimming and ice lollies on the seashore set to fill their time…

Jack was not a stupid man. And the way Phryne was looking at him from over the rim of her coffee cup when she thought he wasn't watching -

Well. Perhaps the heat wasn't the only thing building to a peak this weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE let me know what you think of this chapter's development. I hope it seems in-character. The next chapter will be M-rated, so ensure you set your search parameters to include M stories if you want to follow this fic!

They spent the morning strolling down Hesse Street, ducking into little shops whenever something in the window caught Phryne's eye. By the time they had passed St George's church and reached the top of the hill, the sweat running down the back of Jack's neck had forced him to remove his jacket and loosen his tie. Phryne looked just as sartorially perfect as ever, damn her, although Jack noted smugly that her hair was sticking to her sweat-beaded forehead beneath her hat.

After a light lunch in a restaurant on the esplanade they returned to the hotel. Phryne invade Jack's room with her usual lack of thought for propriety, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and bouncing to compare the springiness of this mattress to her own. Jack watched on, amused, as he hung his hat and jacket behind the door.

"What is on the agenda for this afternoon, Miss Fisher?"

Phryne sighed and flung herself flat on the bed, arms above her head and legs hanging off the edge as she stretched.

_Phryne stretched out on his bed head back throat exposed legs slightly parted chest raised and back arched oh god what was she doing to him…_

Jack forced himself to tune back in as Phryne propped herself up on her elbows and began to speak.

"Well, I had thought we might go for a wander to the lighthouse, then make our way down for a paddle? The water looks  _divine_."

He surprised himself by saying, "It's not the only thing," and was rewarded by a look of shocked approval from Phryne.

"Jack! Are you flirting with me?"

His lips twitched into a smile. "I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Fisher."

()()

Phryne was wearing the same red-trimmed navy blue bathing suit she'd worn on her last trip to Queenscliff. The late afternoon sun glowed gold on her pale skin as she sat on the sand in the shade of a parasol.

"Coming in, Miss Fisher?" Jack asked, standing up as he finished his ice-cream cone. Phryne watched him from behind smoke-lensed spectacles, a grin on her face.

"Mmm, in a minute. I'm enjoying the view."

Jack shook his head in mock outrage, and then - in a mood of utter mischief – he picked Phryne up and carried her over his shoulder, only to dump her, squealing with laughter, into the waves. She emerged spluttering and splashed water at him, her aim hindered by the dark hair in her eyes and plastered smoothly to her skull.

"Just you wait, Jack Robinson! You'll get your comeuppance!" Phryne couldn't quite keep the laugh out of her voice as she chased Jack through the water, her attempts to splash him unable to compete with his rapid changes of direction. When he suddenly turned and headed toward her, Phryne shrieked and began to swim away. Jack was faster, and the push of a sudden wave meant he found himself with an armful of wet, wiggling woman.

_Oh._

Phryne stared up at him from within the circle of his arms, her legs brushing against his as she treaded water. Her chest was heaving from the effort of their chase and the wet fabric of her bathers was draped closely to her form. Jack was very aware of just how inappropriate any onlookers would find their current physical closeness.

Phryne must have had the same thought, because as she grasped his bare upper arms for balance, she said softly, "I hope nobody calls the authorities on us."

Jack's arms tightened around Phryne's waist. "I  _am_  the authorities, Miss Fisher." But after a final long moment he let her go and they drifted in the swell with a slightly more acceptable gap between them.

()()

Dinner was followed by coffee in the hotel's front lounge. They sat in companionable silence, Jack with Walter Scott's  _Ivanhoe_ ; Phryne with her smuggled copy of  _Lady_   _Chatterley's Lover_  which Jack was pretending not to know was banned. Occasionally Phryne paused a little too long on a particular page and Jack had to force himself not to let his eyes slide over to see what exactly had caught her attention. He was very aware of a sense of heightened anticipation between himself and the lady detective, as though their usual carefully constructed walls were chipping away. With an invigorating sense of recklessness, Jack found himself looking forward to whatever the rest of the weekend would bring.

Eleven o'clock found Jack yawning his way through the last few pages of his book. Standing, he wordlessly offered a hand to Phryne, smiling to himself at the look of soft sleepiness on her face.

"To bed?" he said softly, realising his error only when she flashed him a saucy look from under her lashes and said, "I thought you'd never ask."

Shaking his head, he followed her upstairs, determinedly NOT looking at the sway of her hips as she ascended in front of him.

It just went to show how familiar he was with Miss Fisher's habits that Jack was not surprised, ten minutes later, when she wandered through the connecting door into his room with a purloined bottle of gin in one hand and a pair of tumblers in the other.

"Nightcap, Jack?" she waved the bottle as she brushed past him in a waft of expensive perfume and silken nightwear on her way to his bedside table. Giving up on any idea of protest, Jack perched on the edge of the mattress and accepted the glass he was handed.

"It's far too hot to sleep," Phryne sighed, dropping into the armchair beside the foot of the bed. She stretched her bare feet out in front of her, wiggling her toes in the lush carpet, then propped them on the mattress beside Jack's leg. "I suppose I'll sit up and read for a while longer."

Jack nodded. "Unfortunately, I failed to bring enough reading material with me. I'll have to content myself with yesterday's paper."

A sly look crossed Phryne's face as she took a swallow of gin. "As I'm rereading it, I'd offer to loan you my copy of  _Lady Chatterley_ , but I'd hate to be the cause of Jack Robinson having to arrest himself."

Jack allowed himself a smirk. "What makes you think I haven't already read it?" He watched Phryne's expression of astonishment give way to amusement and disbelief.

"I can't tell whether or not you're joking," she admitted.

Jack let his fingers barely graze the arch of one of Phryne's feet, his eyes fixed on her face as he quoted, "A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it."

Wonderment bloomed as she wiggled her foot closer to his fingers and replied, ""It was not the passion that was new to her, it was the yearning adoration. She knew she had always feared it, for it left her helpless; she feared it still, lest if she adored him too much, then she would lose herself."

Jack knew they were more than entering dangerous waters here – they were positively diving into them. So he knew exactly what he was doing when he let his fingers trail up to Phryne's ankle and licked his lips to say, "She must not become a slave. She feared her adoration, yet she would not at once fight against it."

"How ravished one could be without ever being touched. Ravished by dead words become obscene and dead ideas become obsessions." Phryne rose smoothly from the chair and stood in front of Jack, one hand rising to brush his hair from his forehead.

"Obscenity only comes in when the mind despises and fears the body, and the body hates and resists the mind." Jack leant into her touch, his face turning so he could place a kiss on her palm.

Phryne's lips quirked in a challenge. "We fucked a flame into being."

Abandoning another man's words, Jack tugged Phryne onto his lap with a growl. "Not yet, Miss Fisher, but we will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banned books for the uninitiated:
> 
> I've just managed to sneak in the reference to Lady Chatterley's Lover, date-wise– it was first published (and banned) in 1928 and a copy was smuggled into Australia and copied/disseminated in the same year. I'm sure Phryne would be one of the first to get her hands on a copy…the plot concerns an upper-class woman married to a crippled war veteran, and the love affair she has with a working-class gardener. It is famous for its bawdy language. And actually, I'm equally sure that Jack, with his obvious love of literature, would probably have at least paged through a copy despite its illegal status. We know from Season 1 that he doesn't seem to approve of the banning of books.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Yup, M-RATED CHAPTER. Oh, don’t act surprised. This chapter took quite a long time to write, because I wanted it to be very different to anything from my fanfictions “Infinite Variety” and “Brown Rice and Kerosene”. I hope you find it suits this story and the characters.

Phryne slid onto Jack’s lap with a gasp.  His arms around her were solid and warm.  One hand pressed flat against the nape of her neck to guide her into a kiss.  It was too hard, too fast, for the first real kiss between well-mannered suitors.  It was perfect for a first real kiss between a man and a woman who’d been in love for over a year.

They shared the taste of almond and cassia until the flavours of the gin faded.  Jack’s hand slid along Phryne’s thigh, taking the satin of her nightdress with it until the fabric was high enough that she could swing her leg around to sit straddling Jack’s lap: one knee on either side of his hips and her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Hearing you quote Lawrence…Christ, the things it does to me,” Phryne murmured into the kiss.  Her fingers found the open neck of Jack’s shirt – unencumbered by a tie for the duration of the holiday – and traced across the warm, rough skin over his pulse.

Jack’s response was to roughly tug her nightie higher, his fingers just barely slipping under the hem of her underwear.  “I believe you promised me my comeuppance,” he replied as she closed her eyes and pressed closer to his fingers.  She laughed at that, half-opening her eyes to watch his face from inches away as Jack slowly explored the skin of her inner thigh.

“Mmm, your punishment will be worth waiting for.  I don’t suppose you brought your Darbys this weekend?”  The look of mischief on her face was intoxicating and Jack landed a kiss near the outer corner of her eye as he considered the possibilities Phryne’s suggestion brought to mind.

“I suppose that depends.  Are you planning to use them on me, or do I get to use them on you?  After all, of the two of us, you are the one who seems to delight in breaking the law.”

Phryne laughed, but her eyes were dark with desire.  She tongued at Jack’s collarbone, the taste of ocean salt still present despite the baths they’d had (separately, mores the pity) before dinner.  The day’s stubble rose roughly from the skin of his throat and Phryne followed the shadow of growth up Jack’s neck, under his jaw and along to his ear where she paused to explore the lobe with her teeth and whisper to him.  “Hmm.  I can see the attraction in handcuffing you to the bedhead.  Touching you everywhere I’ve wanted to for so long.  Or perhaps I’d leave you chained up to watch while I stripped off my clothes and touched myself.  Would you like that, Jack?”

Jack’s head was spinning under the onslaught of the realisation that the woman he was in love with was offering him _everything._   Her teasing words helped harden his cock and the way she wiggled and gasped in his lap told him that she felt his keen interest.

“Phryne, I want everything from you.  And I’ll give you everything in return – if you’ll have me.”  Though he was afraid of her rejection, he forced himself to watch her expression, his own face open and honest.  If she shot him down…well.  He wouldn’t take her body if he couldn’t take her heart.

Phryne sat, her knees on either side of Jack’s hips; arms draped over his shoulders; nightgown hitched up and hair haloed around her head.  But Jack’s attention narrowed down to the look on her face.  If he had to describe it later, he would’ve talked about the way her lips parted in astonishment and the way the hitch of her breath cause her nose to flare.  But most of all, he would have talked about the look of love in her eyes.

“Jack, don’t you know you cut me open long ago?  Everything I am is flayed open for you.”  She bit her lip and then finished in a quieter voice.  “Only you.”

It was somehow fitting that, like much of their courtship, this moment was phrased in the words of crime and blood.  But that was as far as Jack got to thinking about it, because Phryne was moving again, her hands tracing down his chest (stopping at his nipples for a moment to investigate when his breath broke on a silent moan) to join his where they grasped her hips.  With her palms on the back of his hands, she guided him to press his palms flat against her thighs and push upwards until his fingertips meet the crease between belly and flank.

“Touch me.”  Slowly, she pushed one of his hands between her legs until his fingers met the damp silk between her legs.  Letting go of his hand, she turned her attention to unbuttoning Jack’s shirt.  His waistcoat and jacket had been discarded while she’d been changing next door, and his she slipped his braces from his shoulders.  As she exposed his chest, she bent further and further to be able to press her mouth to his skin, eventually tugging his shirt off entirely.  There were interesting marks and small scars that she promised herself she would explore fully at a later time.  Right now, she was being drawn in by the promise of what lay beneath Jack’s dark trousers.

Grabbing his shoulder, she tugged.  When he realised her intention, he willingly followed and they tumbled onto the bed properly: facing each other in the middle of the mattress. 

“Hullo, Miss Fisher,” he smiled.

“Hullo, Inspector,” she replied with a grin of her own.  She watched as Jack propped himself up one one elbow to lean over her upper body, his eyes overtly travelling the length of her body the way he’d never let himself do before.  The robe and nightgown she wore were simple and lovely, but he was more than ready to see what lay beneath (this time without the distractions of feather fans or an audience).  She moved just enough to help him draw the cloth off her arms, over her head and away, then lay still on the bed as he pressed up on his knees to get a good look at her.

Jack took his time staring at the woman laid out beneath him clad in nothing but a pair of silk underwear.  So many times in their history he’d looked away from her, told himself not to stare: not to be seen _wanting._   But now he had no such hesitations.  The contrast of her dark hair and pale skin spread out against the bedcover was divine.  Her arms were thrown up near her head, bringing to mind her earlier comments about handcuffs, and she was watching him watch her.

Reaching out, Jack hooked his fingers into the waist of Phryne’s underwear.  Maybe he was rushing where he should be savouring every moment, but damn it, they’d waited so long already.  As he tugged the silk down her legs, he could see the minute tremble of Phryne’s body as she forced herself to lay still and let him direct the situation.  Jack knew it must be unusual for her to let someone else be in charge and he understood just what it meant that she was comfortable letting him take control.

Jack went to throw the underwear onto the floor, then paused to bring the fabric to his nose.  His eyes closed as he took in the scent of Phryne’s arousal and he decided then and there that she would not be getting this particular item of clothing back.

But he had made Phryne wait patiently for long enough.  Jack stepped off the bed long enough to strip off his own trousers and underdrawers, biting back a smile when Phryne watched the bob of his cock against his stomach.  Climbing back on the bed, he cocked his head.  “You don’t have to lie there and think of England.  You’re not going to scare me off if you move.”

Phryne laughed at that, drawing Jack down for a kiss made filthy by its desperation.  Her hands trailed over his back – then stopped.

“Jack?”

“It’s nothing.  An old wound.”

“The War?”

His mouth twisted into a rueful smile.  “Melbourne.”

Phryne sat up, turning Jack to sit in front of her so she could see the extent of the pitted scar on his back. 

The scar ran from just to the right of his left shoulder blade, across the spine and down to a few inches above his right hip.  In places it was raised, in others sunken, and the scar tissue was a shiny, faded pink.  The scar had been invisible when he wore his swimsuit, but with his back bare it drew the eye.  The fact that the rest of his back was leanly muscled and smooth made the scar so much more obvious.

“It didn’t heal well.  The blade was dirty.  The cane cutter was down from Childers, looking for his wife, out of his mind with anger.  It itches, sometimes.

A soft kiss was pressed to the scar right where it crossed Jack’s spine.

When Jack turned in Phryne’s arms, he expected a look of pity (or, just possibly, revulsion).  But her face was shining and her smile genuine.

“Thank you for telling me.”

The corners of his mouth lifted and they met, smile for smile, in a hungry kiss as Jack pushed Phryne down to the bed.

“Can we…?”

Phryne nodded.  “Don’t think I was trying to trap you into anything, but I have lived in eternal optimism for a while now.  There’ll be no repercussions of the childbearing kind.”

“Good.  I’m sorry.  I mean…”

“I know what you mean.  Neither of us is in a position to want a pregnancy.  You don’t have to apologise to me.  Now, unless you want me to get those handcuffs out after all, I suggest you touch me, Inspector.”

He tried not to grin as he rested one hand lightly on her ear.  “Here?”

“Not quite.”

“Hmm.”  He trailed the back of his fingers between her breasts and stopped over her navel.  “Here, then?”

“Getting warmer,” she huffed a laugh.

“Well then, my investigations lead me to believe there’s only one possibility remaining.”  Jack took his cock in hand as Phryne’s legs wrapped around his waist.  At her urging, he pressed against her and – Phryne moaned and arched her back as Jack moved.

“Fuck….oh…fuck a flame into being, good _God,_ Phryne…”

Her fingers pressed into his back, careful not to dig into the scarring as Jack’s movements pushed her higher up the bed.  The man was like a machine – _alright, a hot, sweat-slicked, moaning, hip-twisting, endearment-speaking machine_ – that was designed to find every spot that made Phryne’s arousal wind tighter.  Phryne was struck by the idea that, having finally been set loose, the sexual man beneath the detective’s professional mask might be difficult to sate.

Jack’s lips caught on Phryne’s nipple and he closed his mouth over the delicate flesh.  He moved like a man who’d been without intimate touch for years – desperate and hypersensitive.  But beneath it all was the sure touch of a man who wanted to cause pleasure just as much as he wanted to receive it.

“Jack, that feels…please…”

The moan that broke in Phryne’s throat when Jack withdrew from her folds struck him like a blow, but he pulled at her hips to turn her over onto her hands and knees.  “I want…do you mind if…I want to _see_.”

“Oh!  God, yes, whatever you want.”  She gripped the bedcover tightly as Jack pressed into her again, his knees pressing her own apart.

 _Good Lord._   Jack’s eyes were half-closed in pleasure as he dropped his chin to his chest to watch the way his cock pressed into Phryne’s body.  The sight was incredibly arousing – as was the way Phryne’s hips undulated against him and the sway of her small breasts as he reached around to touch them.

Phryne’s head dropped forward towards the pillows and she braced herself on one arm so she could reach back and touch herself.  Jack’s hips jerked when her questing fingers brushed against him where he breached her body and he felt more than heard the way Phryne moaned in response.

Jack’s fingers joined Phryne’s to press and roll her clit, the slickness of her body coating their fingers.  Jack used his knee to kick Phryne’s legs further apart and the impact of the change in angle was immediately obvious.

Phryne’s back arched upward, her face pressing against the pillows, and she began to moan uncontrollably.  Her legs were shaking with tension and her nipples pebbled as a shiver wracked her entire body.  The feeling of heat and sensation radiating from her clit focused into a burst of energy that tightened her muscles and clenched her cunt.  Her voice was wrecked when she cried out.  “Oh, God….oh….Jack!  Jack!”  She went silent when the full force of her orgasm hit her – helpless to do anything but feel.

Jack’s jaw was locked tight as he tried not to immediately give in to the squeezing embrace of Phryne’s body.  Hearing her say his name as she shook and moaned beneath him – he was only human.  How much could a man withstand?

As Phryne began to breathe again, Jack brought slick fingers back to her hips to grip her firmly.  “Alright?” his voice was scratchy, but he waited, dead still, until Phryne’s dark hair swayed in a nod.  It took him barely a minute to finish the inevitable drive towards release and when his orgasm took him he was aware of Phryne’s hand reaching back to grasp his thigh and hold him close as he shook and moaned along with the pulsing of his cock.

They stayed like that for an indeterminable moment: Jack’s forehead resting on the sweat-beaded skin of Phryne’s back and her fingers linked with his on the bed.  Eventually, Jack shifted enough to withdraw from Phryne’s folds (and the quiet sound of protest she made when his softening cock slid free was _incredible_ ) and pull her to lie curled up with him on the bed.

They said nothing for a long while.  Jack’s eyes flicked across Phryne’s face: making note of every line and freckle; the shadow of every lash as she blinked.  Her fingers brushed the brylcreemed curls of hair from his forehead and traced the line of his nose and cheekbone.

“Hullo,” she said softly, pressing her face against his throat.

“Hullo,” he smiled back, wrapping his arms around her back.

Despite the heat, they stayed pressed close together as sleep claimed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrap up Infinite Variety (which has a new smutty chapter, by the way), I’m considering writing a story covering how Jack got the scar, if there would be any interest? For those not in the know, a cane knife is a large, flat, thin blade that is sort of wedge shaped (narrow at the end where it joins the handle) that has a hook on one edge. The design has never changed since it was invented and it can be a very nasty weapon. Around here, they’re still popular for cutting back scrub and vines on big properties. In the 1920s and ‘30s, a man who was a professional cane cutter would treat his knife as very important property (he was unable to work without it) and would take it everywhere he went.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting (about 10 days since the last chapter, which isn't TOO bad, right?). I've had a busy time all around. I intend to update Temptation, The Irate Inspector, and If Blood Should Stain the Wattle all within the next week.
> 
> Thank you to those who've favourited or followed this story, as well as those who are reading andd/or reviewing. The next chapter will cover Jack and Phryne's return to Melbourne and will see Hugh and Dot join the story.
> 
> Just so you know, the title is now relevant twice over: a second heat wave has hit Australia with Melbourne in particular registering 44 degrees Celsius today (about 14 - 17 degrees hotter than their usual summer day temperature) on their fifth consecutive day over 40 degrees. If only all Melburnians could escape to the seaside for the duration of the heat wave!

The feeling of cold steel closing around her left wrist pulled Phryne from a deep sleep.  Blinking awake, she saw Jack lying patiently beside her, a handcuff key clutched between his fingers.

Wrapping his long fingers around the soft skin of Phryne’s right wrist, Jack indicated the other, as yet unattached end of the handcuffs.  “I know we spoke about it earlier but I wanted to check if this was alright?”

Phryne was touched by Jack’s concern, especially since she remembered the way his eyes had darkened with desire when she brought up the possibility of bringing Jack’s handcuffs into bed.  The fact that he had thought to stop and check for her permission to continue…it was so very _Jack._   She drew him down into a kiss, opening her mouth to him and swallowing his moan as her tongue met his own.  Her hand slunk down to wrap around Jack’s cock, caressing his growing arousal until he huffed a laugh and gently pulled her hand away.

“You’re not trying to distract me are you, Miss Fisher?” he smirked, pressing his hips against her.  Phryne adopted an expression of innocence and stretched beneath Jack, letting him feel every inch of her body.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Inspector,” she replied in a low voice, wetting her lips and watching the way Jack’s eyes followed her tongue.

But the use of his title seemed to have an even more arousing effect on Jack, because his fingers locked around Phryne’s wrists and he lowered his mouth to her ear to ask, in a deep growl that spoke of barely restrained passion:  “Phryne, I want _so much_ right now to cuff you to the bed and make love to you.  Is that alright?”

Phryne gasped and squirmed, Jack’s lips nuzzling at her ear as he waited for her reply.  Turning her head to brush her lips against the side of Jack’s face, she whispered breathily, “ _Yes_.”

“Thank God – I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no,” Jack grinned, threading the handcuffs around a bar of the wrought iron bedhead before gently locking the other steel ring around Phryne’s right wrist.

The clicking of the ratchet mechanism sliding closed sent shivers of excitement down Phryne’s spine and the scent of Jack – brylcreem, sweat, wool and whiskey – filled her senses when he leaned over to check that the cuffs weren’t too tight.  Straining upwards, Phryne licked at the salt on Jack’s torso, laughing when he squirmed away with an amused _“Phryne!”_

She giggled at that, but when Jack raised one eyebrow and backed away to kneel beside her on the bed, Phryne frowned in confusion.  “Jack?”

He treated her to a boyish grin that lit up his face.  “I want to make the most of this moment.  The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher: in handcuffs and doing exactly what she is told, for once.  Besides,” he added, trailing a fingertip along the arch of her foot and chuckling when she twitched, “I’m starting to wish I had access to a policewoman’s uniform.  I seem to recall you once swore I’d never get you in one unless I cuffed you first.”

Her amused smile told him she remembered that particular conversation.  But now was not the time for reminisces: not when her body was hot and trembling for his touch.  “Jack, please.  I want you.”

At her bare declaration, he leaned in close, hands planted on either side of her shoulders so he could run his nose and lips teasingly across the skin of Phryne’s throat and breasts.  When he sucked a mark onto the white underside of one breast, Phryne arched against the restraints and voiced a ragged gasp.  Jack drew back to inspect the blot, darkly pleased that Phryne would wear his mark for the next few days.  The way Phryne trembled and rose to meet him as Jack let his teeth and tongue scrape at her skin, lower and lower, reassured him that she didn’t mind his new possessiveness in the least. 

Jack stopped to nip at the rise of Phryne’s hip bone, hesitant to continue without knowing what Phryne would think of his plans.  Lifting his head, he waited until she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

“Would you think it dirty if I used my mouth on you?”

Phryne’s lower lip dropped open in surprise and she shook her head emphatically.  “ _Lord_ , Jack, if that’s your idea of dirty then please – be as dirty as you wish.”

He gave her that withering look she was so used to receiving from him – good humour wrapped in resignation.  Worried he had misinterpreted her surprise, she rushed to reassure him.

“Believe me: I am very glad that you are versed in that particular way of pleasuring a woman and you need _never_ ask me for permission,” Phryne smiled, pleased when Jack smiled back.  “I just never pegged you for the sort of man who is familiar with the less…socially acceptable activities one can do with a lover.”

Jack responded by dipping his head to explore Phryne’s slickness with his mouth, enjoying the sound of the handcuffs clanking against the bedhead as Phryne shifted and jerked with pleasure.

Pulling back slightly, Jack let his fingers stroke where his mouth had abandoned.  His voice was challenging and amused when he spoke. “You imagined, perhaps, that I was inexperienced in the bedroom arts?  A man whose knowledge of sexual skills was restricted to the dull and the mundane?  A man who would not know how to use fingers and lips and tongue to awaken a woman’s arousal?” 

The expert use of those very body parts to wind Phryne’s arousal tighter served to reinforce his words and it was between gasping pleas for more that Phryne managed to say fondly, “You never cease to be a man of hidden depths, Jack Robinson.”

Jack knew that, having invoked Phryne’s interest, she would no doubt ask him at exhaustive length about where, how and with whom he had learnt his bedroom skills.  But at the moment Phryne was so caught up in the waves of pleasure building within her that Jack wasn’t expecting to be facing those questions any time soon.

With a sudden harsh gasp and a cry of Jack’s name, Phryne arousal broke into orgasm.

Jack kept up the motions of his fingers and tongue against Phryne’s slickness and with a shocked cry she arched into a second orgasm, her spine lengthening and her body clenching against Jack’s fingertips.  As her breathing began to even out, she hooked a heel behind Jack and used it to tug him upward.

Stretching his body out over Phryne, Jack smiled down at the dazed look on his lover’s face.

Laying a soft kiss on Phryne’s mouth, Jack asked teasingly, “How are you feeling, darling?  Ready to confess your sins and have those Darbys removed?”

It took a moment before Phryne recovered herself enough to speak, but when she caught sight of the smug look on Jack’s face, she wiggled beneath him in retaliation and grinned when Jack closed his eyes and groaned at the sensation against his overaroused body.  As Jack fought to regain control over himself, Phryne wrapped both legs around his waist.

“I believe I can face up to my punishment for a little longer, Inspector.  I’m at your mercy.”  Her tone had sped right past ‘teasing’ and had come to a full stop at ‘utterly seductive’ as she captured Jack’s earlobe between her teeth and licked.

“Don’t give me ideas,” Jack joked under his breath.  But Phryne narrowed her eyes in consideration until Jack had to ask: “What insane plan are you thinking up now?”

Having come to a decision, Phryne tilted her head to the side and regarded Jack with clear eyes.  “I trust you, Jack.  So I want you to move up towards the top of the bed.”

Unsure where Phryne was heading with this, Jack nonetheless moved further upward until his knees were on either side of Phryne’s ribcage.

“Higher,” she commanded softly.

Jack was slower to obey this time, but obey he did.  When his knees framed Phryne’s shoulders, she smiled reassuringly and wiggled her bound hands to beckon him to learn forward.

“Brace your hands on the headboard,” Phryne said and now there was no possible confusion over what she was planning.  Jack’s heart hammered in his chest as he leaned forward and grabbed hold of the bedhead above the spot where Phryne’s hands were secured.  In this position, his hips were angled close to Phryne’s face and his cock was all but grazing her parted lips.

Holding his body still with great effort as he stared down at her flushed face, Jack managed to wet his lips enough to ask urgently, “Phryne, are you _sure?”_

Her response was to smile kindly and then open her lips around the head of Jack’s cock.

 _Christ Almighty_.  Jack knew now just what Phryne had meant by her cryptic remark of _“I trust you”._   In this position, kneeling over Phryne’s face, if he were to lose his self-control and thrust into her mouth she would be unable to draw breath.  She had put herself in the most vulnerable of positions – restrained and at the mercy of a man for her very ability to keep breathing – and Jack was humbled that the ever-independent Phryne Fisher had put that trust in him.

Jack watched through half open eyes as Phryne took him deeper into her mouth and he was forced to close his eyes when Phryne did something exquisite with her tongue and throat that made Jack’s spine tingle.

He was proud of the fact that, even when Phryne began to hum and moan around him, he managed to keep his hips still – though his legs trembled and his knuckles blanched around the wrought iron bedhead.

To be honest, he was a little embarrassed by how quickly Phryne was able to bring him to the peak of his pleasure.  Watching the way _she_ watched _him_ as she worked at his flesh with her mouth…a groan broke free from Jack’s lips and his entire body stiffened.

“Phryne, Phryne…I’m…”

Instead of pulling her mouth away at Jack’s stuttered warning, Phryne swallowed around him as he shook and shuddered his way through an incredible orgasm.

With shaking hands, Jack retrieved the handcuff key from the bedside table and freed Phryne from the Darbys.  Flinging them to the floor with a clunk, Jack dropped down beside Phryne on the bed and took his lover’s hands in his to rub the circulation back into them.

“I haven’t had a night this debauched since the day after I was demobbed,” Jack smiled wryly, wrapping an arm around Phryne’s shoulders to hold her close. 

She chuckled beside him, stroking her fingers comfortingly against his chest.  “I hope we have many more nights of debauchery ahead of us, Jack Robinson.”

Trying and failing to hide the happiness that bloomed in him at the knowledge that Phryne wanted some sort of a future with him, Jack raised Phryne’s fingers to his lips and kissed them one by one, mustering the courage to speak.

“I love you, Phryne Fisher.”

A face marked with shock and joy turned towards him and Jack almost made a remark about the miracle of having rendered Miss Fisher speechless for once.  But then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

“Well then, I think it’s about time that I admit that I love you too, Jack Robinson.”


End file.
